


No One Can Move Me (The Way That You Do)

by mayorcocko (doc_boredom)



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Car Sex, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, and a lot of other naughty shit happening in said vehicle, but i wrote it so of COURSE there's plot, public naughtiness, these two will be the end of me thank you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-05-18 00:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14842103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doc_boredom/pseuds/mayorcocko
Summary: "I taste your sweet kisses, your arms open wideThis fever for you was just burning me up inside."-Sung/Dylan goodness that I'll just continue at my own leisure. I can't actually write a good description for this. Just read it, alright?-





	1. Chapter 1

Sung likes to think that he’s got this whole dramatic entrance thing down by now. It’s the theatrics of it, he’s learned, the willingness to simply throw yourself about with wild abandon and make a complete fool of yourself without a second thought. **  
**

And that was something that Doctor Sung excelled at more often than not.

So he can’t help but be surprised when he all but flies into the room where Havve and Meouch and Phobos have situated themselves and they don’t even react, barely even blink, at his sudden appearance. For a moment he just stands there and looks at them before clearing his throat in a not so subtle way.

Yes, Sung? Havve doesn’t even look up from the whetstone in his palm (which Sung supposes is a good thing given the fact that the other hand wields an already wickedly sharp knife.) Do you have something to say?

He bites back a sigh and glances around the room first, taking in Phobos’s curled form on the nearby loveseat with book propped in lap and Meouch sitting opposite to him, the Leoian tuning his bass in an almost casual manner. “Y-yes.” Sung stutters before he finds himself again. He throws out his arms, doing his best enticing finger waggles his digits can muster. “Who…………” He drags the word out, eye touching upon each of his friends meaningfully before he grins just so. “Wants to come to a concert with me tonight?!”

A strange note is plucked out by Meouch in response and then, in turn, Phobos flips a page and Havve runs his blade across the whetstone with a strange, sharp noise. Sung can only stand there, brow falling over his eye in confusion as the lack of response continues until it finally becomes unbearable.

“I said-!”

“We heard you, Sung.” Meouch finally looks up. “Goin’ to concerts with you is gods awful, so I’m going to have to pass.”

“Awful!” He blusters as he strides up to the Leoian. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you get worked up.” Phobos explains in a soft voice, antennae twitching with amusement. “Excited.”

“One would assume that’s a good thing.” Sung grits out before he’s narrowing his eye at Meouch. “You got something against having fun?”

“No Sung, but I can’t do the whole screaming twelve year old girl act that you somehow always manage to pull out of your ass every time we go see someone perform live. I have a migraine, okay? I want to work on my bass and then I want to sleep and that’s final.” The Leoian snaps before he’s settling back into the couch, tail thumping against the cushions in annoyance. Well, that answers that… He sighs under his breath before turning in the opposite direction.

“What’s your excuse?” He says in a quiet voice, already knowing the answer given how Phobos is nestled up in a blanket with Dangus purring at his side, the book in his hands just nearing the halfway mark.

“Just got to the good part.” Phobos says in an apologetic voice, not looking apologetic whatsoever. “Sorry Sung.”

He turns to Havve finally, eyeing the robot, still working the knife methodically over the whetstone without pause.

No. He says before Sung can even open his mouth, can even form a thought. The empath deflates and begins to slump his way out of the room, not even bothering with saying any kind of goodbye. Stop Charlie Brown-ing over there, Sung. Havve calls after him. He stops at the door before throwing a dirty look over his shoulder.

I should have never introduced you to pop culture, you bastard.

Another low note on the bass, a page flip, the sound of the knife scraping on the whetstone.

No one’s saying you can’t go by yourself Sung. Havve says with a barely perceptible tilt of his head.

Sung’s going stiff with it. Where’s the fun in that? He shoots back and Havve tilts his head back to it’s original position, holding the knife up for inspection while he does.

You’re you, Sung. I’m sure you can find someway, somehow, to have fun tonight on your own. Their eyes meet across the room and there’s something in Havve’s optics that fills him with resolve.

“Fine.” He says outloud. “I’ll go myself, and I’ll have the best time of my life, and you’ll all regret it.” He’s stomping off and Havve’s quiet laughter is the only thing to follow him, ringing through his head across their link.

-

It’s some hole in the wall bar where you can see the stage the moment you walk in the door. He’s as human as you can get, he supposes. Some scrounged up thrift shop band tee for Led Zeppelin with a flannel over it, jeans and beat up sneakers, the dark visor band that covers his eye the only real stand out thing in that moment, but that’s what you got for being, you know, not of this world.

He doesn’t even bother with the bar, instead just find a spot off to the side, watching as everyone else filters in. His core is covered but that doesn’t stop him from getting a read on the room and what everyone is feeling. There’s quite a few newcomers, people who don’t really know what they’re getting into like him, and then there’s the handful that do. Excitement, eagerness, a completely unexpected seuxal undercurrent that seems to run through quite a lot of them. Sung hadn’t even bothered to check what kind of music this band Planet Booty made, deciding instead to go in with virgin ears, but now he was very, very intrigued.

“Oh boy.” A voice says next to him. He looks over at the stranger, a young woman with short blonde hair and kohl rimmed eyes. “I know that look.”

His brow raises some from behind his visor and she’s giving an easy chuckle. “What look?” Sung says slowly and her lips pull up at the corners in response, a mischievous look coming about her.

“First Booty experience.” Not just me, he wants to say as he glances around the room again, but he lets the human girl continue- morbidly curious in the face of her growing glee. “Dylan’s gonna wreck your shit.” Her endearing tone is at complete odds at her dangerous words. Sung’s mouth opens but she’s already flouncing off to the stage, throwing a “good luck!” over her shoulder at him.

Alrighty then.

He’s considering the inevitable drink that he probably ought to just get when the lights dim, the crowd leaning forward with quiet anticipation. This is why he loved this kind of shit. The thrum of excitement shared between each other, the emotions that could be evoked by just the right note or tune. The rest of the guys didn’t get it, couldn’t get it the way he did.

Oh gods, Sung can’t help but think a moment later, what was he wearing?

The empath supposes it’s very pot calling the kettle black of him, but he can’t help but just stare as the lead singer comes out onto stage wearing a fitted black blazer decorated in fine silver and gold threading, black dress shorts, and a white button up underneath with a black tie on top of it all. His eye widens considerably as he (Dylan, he’s assuming) swaggers up to the mic, whipping his sunglasses off as he does. “Hello all you sexy, sexy people.” He murmurs into the microphone before his entire face lights up with a smile, the joy in him boundless.

There’s other people joining him now, a bored faced bassist wearing a simple white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves and black pants, another male with a snapback and a weird combination of casual-athletic gear and dress clothes. He makes it work though, hell, the whole thing they’ve got going works for some reason. “I’m seeing some of my favorite people here.” He points right at the girl and she’s throwing her head back with a pleased laugh. “But a lot of you are new here, now don’t worry, we’re all gonna get to know each other real well by the end of the night. I’m gonna have to ask everyone to move in closer, cos we can’t have a real Planet Booty show without being up close and personal. That includes you, shorty.”

Dylan’s staring right at him from the stage and Sung flushes from head to toe at the unexpected attention, feeling more than just Dylan’s eyes on him in that moment. “None of that wallflower shit, you hear? We don’t operate that way here at Planet Booty. I better see you dancin’ later.” And then he has the gods damn audacity to wink right at him. “Alright, alright, enough of that! We’re here to have fun tonight, to love tonight, to sweat tonight.” A cheer goes up and the one in the hat is leaning over his keyboard and gods-

He really isn’t ready for whatever the hell this was.

It’s good. Better than good, it’s gods damned amazing. It’s hypnotically rhythmic and Sung can’t help but be drawn in by the pounding bass that begins to issue from the speakers. He draws up next to the blonde at the front of the stage and she smiles at him, nudging his side just so before mouthing a “just wait” at him.

And then Dylan looks right at him and starts singing…

…About ass.

“Your face!” She shrieks in delight as his mouth falls open. “Ugh, this is what I live for!!!” Without warning she wraps her arms around him and begins to gesture wildly at Dylan until he looks back over at them, eyes widening just so. Sung’s attempting to clamp his lips shut but by then it’s too late, he’s seen it all. Dylan’s entire face lights up and he’s barely suppressing a laugh between verses before he’s wheeling back over to his friend, their voices overlapping as the song goes on. “Let me give you the deets. See that’s Josh, and over there is Rob on the bass, and this song is called Junk in the Trunk.” She says it all so matter of factly over the speakers. “And you have seen nothing yet, my friend.”

What else can there be at this point? He really shouldn’t be questioning any of this given his penchant for high kicks and light up shoes and TWRP’s whole aesthetic, but Sung’s reeling, trying to make sense of whatever the hell it was that he was seeing, hearing, experiencing…

They’re halfway through the song when it happens. Dylan just hops off on stage left, mic in hand and blazer being thrown behind him with wild abandon, grabbing the closest person and just dragging them in until they’re hip to hip, chest to chest, body swaying with the beat as Josh starts to sing about having a good time.

“Is that normal?” He says over the music to his companion. She nods, looking absolutely Cheshire in that moment. Gods. He’s never felt so out of his element before. “Is this what you were telling me about?!”

“Not even close.” And Sung doesn’t even have time to react because he’s being pushed forward by her, right into Dylan’s personal space.

“See you finally decided to join.” Josh is still singing and Dylan’s got the mic away from his mouth, the first couple of buttons on his shirt undone, tie hanging about his neck loosely, taking in Sung’s sudden presence without breaking his stride. “You havin’ fun?”

Despite how lost he was, Sung supposes he is having fun in some sort of sense. And hadn’t that been the plan all along? He can’t help but manage a near breathless smile, his core taking to the excitement pouring off of Dylan, the pure electric energy that seems to thrum through him nonstop. “Attaboy.” Dylan murmurs in a fond voice, fingers grazing over his hip just so before he’s pulling away with a playful grin. For a moment Sung can only stand there in shock before his friend from before is pulling him back, propping her chin on his shoulder. “So…” She hums. “You know- the funny thing is that was like, the PG version of Dylan Germick.”

“PG?” He parrots back in a strangled voice.

“Just. You. Wait~”

It doesn’t take long either to see Dylan in his full glory either because it only takes three songs for the sweating frontman to strip down to just his dress shorts. He’s done everything from twerking on stage to sensually thrusting his trumpet at the crowd to grinding up against his mic stand and Sung swears his core is this close to melting out of his chest. Everyone’s a little drunk off the energy coursing through the room, their emotions smearing across his senses in a strange and unavoidable way. Poor Havve, he can’t help but think, the coherency of his own thoughts startling him. Hopefully he had already gone and put up a wall between them because the empath knows he’s not any good for it in his current state.

Somehow, at some point, Dylan’s finds his way to him once more in the crowd. He’s singing something but Sung could really care less because all he wants is to get closer to the other male, make it so there’s not even an inch of space between them. The human turns so his back is pressed up against Sung’s chest and it’s all too easy to put his hands on the other’s sweat slicked chest, knowing that’s exactly what Dylan wants in that moment without words. He rocks back and Sung’s hips cant forward until they’re both rolling against one another, Sung’s hands slipping down further and further until they’re working the human’s belt off, dragging it slowly one notch at a time.

There’s screeching and wolf whistles and all kinds of approval and amusement at the sight of it all but Sung’s not thinking about that. He’s thinking about how badly he wants the other in that moment. Gods, this was all kinds of fucked up but if Sung didn’t absolutely love it either. He’s pulling the belt off then and Sung can’t help but notice the way that Dylan practically purrs with the action of it. It takes everything he has to not just shove his hands down the front of the other male’s pants- Instead, he reaches back up with is free hand and guides Dylan’s own hand down until his fingers are brushing the button and he’s making a show of it too.

“Attaboy.” Sung whispers, unable to help himself, and Dylan’s stilling for just a moment before a chuckle of disbelief slides out of him.

“You lil’ shit.” He hisses back before he’s untangling himself away from Sung, throwing a pointed look over his shoulder before he’s returning to the stage. There’s a pause in the song where it’s all just instrumental and the entire time Dylan doesn’t take his eyes off of Sung as he works the zipper down.

And for a moment all of the crazy lust and pent up sexual need is forgotten because Dylan Germick is wearing booty shorts.

Bedazzled booty shorts, mind you.

The smile on Dylan’s face isn’t so pointed anymore as it is just genuine and unceasing, a beautiful thing that lights up his entire face. Sung’s returning it and in that moment he can’t help but think that this was meant to be. The fact that he was here tonight alone, that he had even heard of this performance in the first place… The Fates had a funny way of working like that.

He turns then to the girl from before, smile more shit eating than anything. “How was that for a newbie?” Sung says breathlessly. Her eyes are wide with disbelief but he can feel the approval pouring off her and it feels like a rite of passage. “Was that too much?” He says after a beat and her expression changes as her eyes screw up and she doubles over with a whooping laugh.

“It’s never enough with Dylan Germick!” She finally manages out and when Sung looks back up at the stage at the other male’s cocked hip, the fire in his eyes as he leans out to thank the stage, their eyes meet and he’s nearly bowled over by the need and want the other male feels in that moment. For skin on skin.

For something tactile and real.

Oh gods.

He’s grinning like a wolf as he begins to saunter off stage, hips twitching with each step, the shorts catching in the stage lights after the encore. “C’mon.” The crowd is breaking up and his new found friend is twining their arms, smiling up at him. “I’m buying you a drink.”

“But…” The word isn’t even audible as it passes his lips. But what, Sung? Whoever Dylan Germick was, whatever he was, he had gone out into the crowd and fooled around with just about everyone, not just you. And even if there had been something there it’s not like Dylan was just going to straight up pursue it. People just didn’t do that.

Besides, you’ve got nothing else better to do, do you?

He relents then and she’s giving a squeal of excitement, pulling him through the people, past the merch table and to the bar. “I can’t believe you just- you actually did that.” She’s saying as they sit down next to one another. “Someone’s a brave boy.” She jabs him a few times in the arm with her index finger.

“It just felt right.” He says with a sheepish smile as he ducks his head, hair falling over his visor. There’s something being slid his way and he can only pull a face when he smells the rubbing alcohol scent of vodka, but a free drink is a free drink, right? She’s holding her own out and Sung’s cocking his head just so. “Cheers?”

“To Planet Booty, and to being your sexy sweaty self.” She gestures with her glass. Sung clinks the glassware together and they’re both throwing back the drinks like they’re shots. “Oh God, that’s terrible! Jesus. What did you put in this?”

“It’s rail, sweetheart.” The bartender deadpans and the woman next to him curls her lip and rolls her eyes in response.

“Yeah well it’s shitty rail.” She huffs under her breath, her annoyance spiking. “But hey, if it gets the job done, right?”

“Right.” This is a nice cool down, he thinks, after everything that happened earlier on. The searing stare Dylan had pinned him with is becoming a pleasant memory, something like his own personal secret of sorts. The fun he had sworn he would have had been managed and it looked like he was making a new friend, something he never objected to. Tonight had been successful, tonight he had been daring, tonight he was happy.

“Right.” A voice drawls as someone steps between them.

“Dylan!” She shrieks and Sung’s stomach drops with it, the cup still held up to his face, partially obscuring his vision. “You sweaty bastard! Do not hug me if you’re sweaty, I swear if you hug me and you’re sweaty-! Remember last time?”  
“How could I not?” And just like that Dylan Germick is turning to him, putting a hand over both his shoulder and hers. “Me and Tess go back, way back. Context- she comes to a show in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere…”

“You don’t get to call anywhere Bumfuck when you’re from Indiana, Dylan.” She’s already got another drink and holding it up to her mouth, her eyes narrowed in silent judgement at the singer.

“Okay, listen, Indiana’s not that bad. Have you ever been to Indiana?” Sung doesn’t even get the chance to answer before Dylan’s continuing on. “Anyways, I see her and I’m like oh Tess is getting it. She’s fucking getting it tonight.”

“I’m screaming at him that I have a flight the next day and I’m not going to have the chance to shower and of course the bastard doesn’t care.” She pinches his arm and Dylan’s yelping in response, bumping his hip up against her chair with a warning look. “Just puts my face against his gross chest and drags it doooown.” She points her finger until it’s basically between her legs.

“All the way down town. See you need to employ that reverse psychology Tess. If you tell me not to, I’m gonna.”

Sung’s eye is wide behind his visor as he watches the two of them banter with such practiced ease. There’s a warmth there between them, a kinship of sorts. He basks in it, eye closing as a pleased smile touches his lips.

“Alcohol already gettin’ you?” A low voice says next to his ear and he’s jumping with it. Dylan’s close. As close as he was during the show. There’s an echo of what he had felt during the show and Sung’s core is greedy for it, running hot and bright under his shirt.

Fuck.

“A little.” He rasps out and Dylan’s lips curl at the corners just so. “You were great out there, by the way.”

“Me!?” Dylan crows and throws Tess a look. “Shorty, you stole the show. And my belt.” That hand on his shoulder feels like a brand and the empath hates how much he likes the feeling of the other male’s hands on him. “Did Tess tell you to do that?”

“Fuck no, I let him go in blind. He managed that all by himself.” She snorts into her drink. “Even I couldn’t believe it.”

“Well shit. You’re a fucking natural.” That hand is sliding down his bicep now and Sung can feel Dylan’s surprise when he finds the muscle there, followed by a growing interest that’s burning through him like wildfire. Shit. Shit shit shit. Maybe he should get another drink. He’s just about to say something about it when Dylan leans forward.

“Get us some shots.” He says to the bartender before throwing a look over his shoulder at Sung, almost feral. “I’m feelin’ Fireball.”

-

He’s always been a gods damned light weight.

He’s far from drunk but he’s not sober either. He’s a pleasant level of tipsy that makes his body feel loose, the kind that sweeps his inhibitions to some dark and forgotten corner for the night. Tess is slumped up on the bar, cackling wildly at some insane story Dylan’s recalling about the time they apparently went to the zoo.

“Josh would not shut up about the rhino for like, five hours following. Rob was gonna fucking kill him.” He slaps his hand on the bar and Tess howls back. “You just had to show him the rhino, didn’t you?”

“I’m getting him a plush. Don’t tell him. You-you too. You keep your pretty mouth shut.” Tess is wasted by this point and reaching over Dylan to touch his face. “Why… why you gotta wear this thing? Whuz the point? Are you legally blind? DID I MAKE A BAD JOKE EARLIER!? I said… I said you were… you went in blind.” She pulls away and puts her face on the bar again, groaning loudly. “Fuck!”

“Ah, no it’s… it’s just a personal choice.” He looks at Dylan then and the other’s head is cocked just so. He was being studied, he realizes a moment later. Dylan had been staring at him. Sung’s blushing and ducking his head, carding his fingers through his hands. “You know me, Cool Guy over here.”

“Well, does Cool Guy wanna help me get Tess back to her hotel?” It’s nearly 2 AM and almost everyone’s cleared out by this point from the bar. He nods and Dylan’s smiling in quiet thanks, his gratitude all kinds of soft against his senses. “Tess, you got your keys on you?”

“Fuck yeah I do.” She shoves a hand into her purse and comes up with two hotel keys, still not even looking up. “I walked!” She announces to the wood grain joyously.

“That’s nice, Tess.” Dylan’s giving a good natured roll of his eyes as he goes to her other side. “You got the other side, shorty?” Tess is just a few inches shorter than him so it’s easy enough to loop his arm around the girl to steady her. “There we go. Okay Tess, you ready?”

“Born ready!” She throws her head back. His own core got weird when he drank but it was even weirder feeling what drunk people felt. Still, at least he could tell she was having a good time, just drunk enough to be gone from the world but nowhere near ready to puke (thankfully.) The streets themselves are still warm for the earlier summer heat and complete deserted, not another soul but the three of them skirting under bright lamp light.

“So- I didn’t catch your name.” Dylan’s voice breaks the silence some time later as their shoes catch the concrete, causing Sung to look up and over at him. He had went and changed out of his sweaty clothes before he had hopped into their little group and now he was just in a v-necked t-shirt and a pair of form fitting jeans. “Unless you really do go by shorty, to which I have to say man, my intuition is good.”

He hesitates before throwing all caution to the wind. He’ll probably never see this guy again, and Tess is so far gone from them at this point. “It’s Sung.”

“Sung?”

“Mm hmm.”

“Past tense of sing? You’re telling me that’s your name?”

“There’s much worse names out there.” Sung says dryly and Dylan’s relenting with an easy, amused laugh which Tess copies unknowingly and drunkenly, causing them both to snort.

“I like it. It’s unique, like you.” Oh? He feels his cheeks heat because while Dylan’s words are easy and unbothered the intent behind them, the emotion that causes them to be spoken, is anything but. “You’re all kinds of special, you know that Sung? Never just had someone get into it like that.” He’s grinning that knife sharp smile of his again and it’s doing things to him. Terrible, awful things.

“Ha!” The laugh barks out of him awkwardly and into the summer night sky. “Tess was right, she didn’t tell me what to do, but she was giving me shit for being a newbie and I was like ‘oh I’ll prove her wrong.’” He looks down at her then and back up at Dylan. Her feet are dragging and her lids are heavy and the poor thing is this close to just falling asleep standing up. “…Should I… should I carry her?”

“Can you?” Dylan’s brow is inching up towards his hairline in incredulity.

“Oh, easily.” He hefts her up and she’s like feathers in his arms. “See?”

“Jesus, alright. I got a good feel on your muscles but-” He wipes a hand across his mouth and eyes Sung, his interest reaching a gods damn fever pitch. Sung’s flushing and readjusting his hold on Tess, causing her to murmur softly in her nearing sleep. “Let’s get this one home, yeah?” He manages in a tight voice.

Dylan finally drags his eyes away, putting them forward once more. “Yeah.”

Sung’s not quite sure what’s happening in those first few steps because it’s quiet and it’s almost strained but then Dylan starts to ask questions and they’re the kind that he can answer. What brought him out to the concert, had he heard them before, did you have a good time? At the last one he can’t help it. He tips his head towards the other male and stares in silence until Dylan’s giving a snort of amusement.

“I like to make sure.” He says in a soft voice and then he’s dropping it, but Sung can still feel it- the other questions and comments that want to follow that statement. Dylan’s pushing them back though, not away but to somewhere where they be brought up again later, when Tess isn’t here.

He gulps at that.

They reach the hotel and have a grand time explaining Tess’s current status to the night auditor at the front desk and within minutes they have her in her room on the bed, her jacket removed and the blankets pulled up to her chin. “She’s like an angel.” Dylan muses, only half joking. He reaches down then and brushes the hair back from her face. “You think she’ll be okay?”

He’s a interesting one, this Dylan Germick. The stage persona is so much, so in your face, but even then underneath it you could see this Dylan, soft spoken with so much love and care inside of him. He had leaned over the crowd at one point, talking about being true to yourself, to loving yourself, to living in the moment. It wasn’t some schlock that had just sprung from his lips to please the crowd. He had felt it with every word, every syllable and Sung had felt it all.

“She’ll be just fine.” Sung finally says. They’re friends. You didn’t need to be an empath to see it, to know it. Whatever circumstances that had brought Tess and Dylan together, they had been for good. “You going back to your place now?”

“Implying I’d come back to yours?” Dylan means to tease it, he’s sure of it, but something in his voice goes low and his stare becomes that much more in that moment.

“Ah, ha… I dunno how the guy’s would feel about that.” His throat feels horribly dry and he can’t get enough air in his lungs. “Got myself three other roommates.” They were between legs of their own tour and sometimes it was just easier staying on Earth rather than going back and forth.

“Sounds like a party.” They can’t be doing this here, in this poor girl’s room. He holds a finger up to his lips and jerks his chin at Tess before he’s pointing at the doorway. Dylan brings his own finger up to his lip and nods and they’re out into the hallway just like that. “Sung, before-”

Dylan goes very quiet and Sung has to stare up at him. He’s terribly tall, and terribly handsome, and everything about this isn’t quite right and yet everything feels right in this moment. “Was really good.” He supplies and Dylan’s giving a choked noise. “Not good?” He says moments later, only able to joke about it because despite Dylan’s incredulity at his words, his sputtering disbelief, there’s something there.

The same thing that’s been between them the whole night.

A spark, ready to explode into flame.

“God, no.” Dylan’s shoving his hair back from his face. “Holy shit, don’t even start to think that kind of nonsense. It was perfect, like you knew exactly…” The older male trails off and gives a huff of a sigh. “Listen, whatever the fuck it was, it was good.”

And? The question is moments from springing from his lips but he keeps them firmly pressed together, letting his core take in the trepidation pouring off the other male. Dylan looks down at the floor, releasing a low groan, before he’s leaning in and there’s barely an inch of space in between them. “I think I like you, shorty. I think I like you an awful lot.”

No one knew he was an alien here, no one could ever know what any of them actually were. There were laws in place to ensure these things but stupid Dylan Germick and his sparkling booty shorts and ridiculous mustache had him all sorts of twisted up and not caring about the consequences.

Gods, Havve was going to kill him.

“That’s good because I like you too.” He tries for low and confident, because that’s sexy right? But his voice comes out all kinds of strangled and tight and nervous and he’s quickly giving a choked laugh. “Oh, wow… Can I- can I get a redo?”

Dylan stares at him before he’s cupping his face and pressing their foreheads together, face turning red as he begins to hold his laughter back, but gods if it isn’t beautiful. Pure, unfiltered elation and bliss, and underneath it all an endearment that Sung’s not quite sure how he managed to cause in the other but he relishes in all the same.

“You are too much.” Dylan kisses the side of his face, right under his visor, and laughs against his flushed and freckled skin. Sung turns his head into it then and there’s just a breath between their lips. “Jesus, Sung.” He hears Dylan say.

“Dylan.” He breathes back, just as softly.

And they’re kissing.

It’s soft and careful even as Sung feels his back press up against the door to Tess’s room, the cool of the wood pressing through every inch of his back as Dylan holds him there. His hands find the front of Dylan’s shirt and he’s balling the fabric up in his fists, dragging Dylan that much closer. He wants to be as close as they were during that show, closer if possible.

There’s fingers in his hair and he almost doesn’t notice when the other starts to pull his visor off. He throws his head back hard and doesn’t even register the pain as it connects with the door, the near panic of it all drawfing it. “Visor stays on.” And later, what about your shirt? And yours ears too, currently covered by your hair but how easily could that be pushed aside? Dylan’s staring at him with hurt confusion and Sung’s caught between guilt and a little thing called a legal obligation.

The guilt wins out.

“…But it doesn’t have to if you don’t freak out.”

Dylan’s scoffing and rolling his eyes. “Sung, PB’s kind of about body positivity and about loving yourself so anything that you think is weird or wrong isn’t going to-” And as the other male is speaking his heartfelt words Sung decides it’s one of those things that you have to treat like a bandaid.

You just have to rip it off.

He pulls his visor off without warning and Dylan’s freezing up at the sight of it. His eye. He draws in a breath and the empath almost doesn’t react fast enough, his fingers just catching the scream that threatens to leave the human and holding it back. “You said you wouldn’t freak out!” Sung hisses and Dylan’s looking at him with two very wide, very human eyes.

A hand on his wrist then and Sung’s careful and slow as he removes his hand. “That was under the assumption that you were human!” Dylan hisses back and the dread is immediate. This was stupid. This was such a stupid, awful mistake…

But then the surprise fades and all that’s left is awe. “You’re like, literally out of this world.” Dylan whispers in wonder, those same hands that had framed his face moments before finding their way back. “What else?”

He can’t help it. He smiles. Sung pushes his hair back then and Dylan’s marveling at his pointed ear tips, touching the oh so carefully. You ain’t seen nothing yet, he wants to say, but he keeps quiet, throwing a few quick looks down the hallway before he’s pulling his shirt up. The light of his core shows up even now, faintly through the bandages that cover it. “Is that an Arc Reactor? Are you fucking Tony Stark?” Dylan’s voice is raising once and Sung’s shoving his fingers at his face again, shushing him furiously.

“Unfortunately no, I’m an empathetic cyclops in a band called Tupper Ware Remix Party.”

“Band!” Dylan chokes out and Sung can’t believe that’s what he takes from everything he’s saying.

“Really, not even questioning the name?” That was, oddly enough, the usual question they got more often than not. He’s pulling down his shirt and glancing down the hallway again surreptitiously before bringing his eye back to the astounded human. “Listen, Dylan… this is not public knowledge, at all. This is actually kind of insane and super illegal that I’m telling you all this, much less showing you.”

“So why?”

Great question. His mouth works, an odd sound issuing from the back of his throat as he tries to mentally process it. What made Dylan Germick so special? What made him worth the risk, the chance? All of that and more?

“Because I think I like you.” It leaves him in a rush. “I think I like you an awful lot.”

Dylan’s brows jump just so before his head drops, a low and amused laugh leaving him. “That’s the second time you’ve done that tonight.” Dylan says in a measured voice after a moment’s hesitation, his right arm bracing above Sung on the door, his left hand finding the empath’s chin. “Gone and used my own words against me.”

“You like it though.” A pause and he’s cocking his head, a slight grin coming to his face as he touches his core through his shirt. “I know, I can tell.”

“You-” Dylan says with a breathless laugh and before Sung can counter once more the human’s lips are on his again.

It’s so much more than the few kisses they had shared before. Dylan’s mouth slots over his and Sung can’t help but arch up into it. He can feel the other’s hands on his hips before they’re working their way up over his sides underneath his shirt and he’s moaning with it. “Dylan, we can’t.” He manages between kisses roughly.

“Now why?” Sung’s words are a challenge rather than a deterrent, causing a stubbornness to rise up in the other. Dylan’s leaning down then, breath hot against his neck before he bites the skin there. “Give me one good reason, shorty.”

“H-Hallway.” The word gasps out of him as Dylan begins to suck on the skin with the intent of marking him up. “Gods…” Another hickey just a few inches away from the other and he can feel Dylan grinning against his skin, wild and pleased.

“You wanna get a room? Cos I think at this rate we’ll just be kicked out for a noise complaint.” Dylan’s fingers are pressing into his ribs, creeping that much closer to his core. He’s giving a desperate laugh, knowing full well if Dylan touches it when he’s all strung out like this, he’ll lose it.

“So where?” There’s no stopping this now. Not when his own fingers are hooking into Dylan’s belt loops, not when he can feel his cock straining in his pants and Dylan’s own hardness pressing up against his thigh.

“Nothin’ can be easy, can it?” Dylan turns thoughtful for a moment and Sung wishes he could help the other brainstorm, he really does, but the human is tracing his fingers against his skin and it’s the most gods damned distracting thing in the world. “Now don’t go judging me.” He starts.

“Implying I haven’t this entire time.” Dylan’s snorts but Sung’s continues to push, nearly drunk off their shared joy. “What with the bedazzled booty shorts and the blazer and not to mention this…” He skims a finger across the other’s mustache.

“You oughta try it, you’d look good…” Dylan’s own fingers find his face and they’re outlining his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw, pausing when they reach his mouth. There’s a thumb then pressing down on his lower lip and Sung’s inhaling sharply at it. “But I think you look perfect just like this.”

“You were saying… earlier…?” He’s breathless with it, from the intensity of Dylan’s stare, from the heat pouring off of him, the desire there and the nearing desperation of wanting and needing Sung in that moment.

“I’ve got a car.” Dylan manages hoarsely. “Ain’t nothing special, but at the very least we don’t have to worry about anyone bothering us.”

Were you really going to do this? Fuck a near stranger in their car? He swallows thickly before he nods, pulling his visor back on. “Well, what’re we waiting for?” He grins, hoping to the gods that his voice doesn’t shake.

“The fuck if I know.” And Dylan’s pulling away to twine their fingers together and his excitement bolts through Sung’s spine and core, tingling down from the crown of his head to the tip of his toes. They can’t even wait, mouths finding one another as they fall into the elevator, Sung laughing uncontrollably as Dylan stumbles over himself, his own laugh bubbling out of him.

“What happened to all those sauve moves?” Sung says and Dylan’s giving him a dirty look with no menace behind it whatsoever. “Could it be, Dylan Germick is a big huge dork?”

“Could it be…” A pause, they go down a floor. “I…don’t know your last name, oh my God.”

“I don’t… I don’t have one.” It’s a bit jarring given that they’re this close to banging but he’s laughing it off, being light hearted about it. “But if you want a full name, you can call me Doctor Sung.” That’s his title, after all.

“Doctor!” Dylan’s eyes go wide. “You’re telling me you’re a bonafide PhD holding, medically trained porno stereotype?”

“Porno stereotype!?” Sung pushes at his chest and Dylan’s pulling him closer, peppering the side of his face with easy-light kisses. “Never mind, on second thought, I don’t think this is going to work.”

“I put that part at the end for a reason! You’re a talented man, Doctor Sung.” His voice dips dramatically and Sung’s being pulled close once more, their lips brushing each other’s just as the doors open up again. “After you.” Dylan’s releasing him, holding his arm out with a beautiful smile.

Gods.

Gods damn.

It takes a lot to nod a pleasant good bye to the night auditor, especially when Dylan sneaks up behind him and begins to push him out the door, tickling his sides as he does. “Bastard!” Sung yells when they’re back outside in the humid night air. It’s 3 AM and his face hurts from laughing and kissing and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He can tell it’s the same for Dylan too, his cheeks flushed red and his laugh lines undeniable as his eyes crinkle up with a loud laugh.

“Now c’mon, don’t be like that.” How easy it is to let the other grab him and manhandle him. Gods, he wants it, likes it. His own hands are sliding to Dylan’s back, down until they’re tucking into his back pockets and he’s able to squeeze the other’s ass through his jeans. “Oh, okay, now this is a good Sung.”

“Yeah?” Are they even going to get to the damn car at this rate? He doubts it, but they still ought to try…

“All up in my biz, getting handsy, looking so damn good.” Dylan leans in and Sung sighs into their next kiss. “Gettin’ me all worked up without even having to try.”

“Dylan…” His lips are numb at this point and his core feels like molten fire in his chest. “C’mon.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His fingers carding through his hair, grazing past his ears and down the column of his throat. How did humans do it? Feel so much? Experience so much? His eye is rolling back and the realization hits that this isn’t even anything. This isn’t even skin on skin. This is just them fooling around, not even foreplay.

Holy shit.

“The car, please.” He groans. “I’m gonna die…”

“Dramatic.” Dylan muses as he pulls away. “You think you can manage for another ten minutes, Doctor?”

Can he? He leans up to nip at Dylan’s bottom lip before he manages a tight nod. “Then let’s go.”

Sung’s nervous that ten minutes to the car means ten minutes to reconsider, to question what he was doing. It was like when he had been carrying Tess. It’s not though, not when he can feel the lust pouring off Dylan the entire time, the growing desperation.

Ten minutes passes by in an instant.

The car is parked behind the bar still and Dylan’s pressing his hands together in front of his face, eyes closing. “Thank you for not being towed.” He whispers to the sky. “God is a woman and she is good to me, Sung.”

“Not even a ticket.” He teases lightly as he comes up to the other’s side. “She’s really looking out for you.”

“She brought us together tonight, so yeah, I’d like to think so.” Dylan’s spinning the keys lazily around his finger, lips pulling at the corners as he smiles at Sung. He’s leaned up against the car and he looks so gods damned good. “Is that what you would say up in space?”

“We uh, we’d say it’s the Fates. One of those ‘everything happens for a reason’ things.” Dylan’s putting a hand on the nape of his neck and his eyes sliding closed at how good it feels, how right.

“You seem a lil’ too spontaneous for that kind of shit, shorty.” Dylan’s pressing a kiss to the crown of his head as the lock unclicks. The sound echoes out in the empty parking lot, deep inside Sung at what it implies. “…You still good?”

“Just a little nervous, I’ve never…” A pause. “Do we even have the right stuff?” Gods, he sounds so inexperienced when he says it like that. He gives an embarrassed noise and glances away, hugging himself self consciously.

“Yeah I’ve got stuff in the glovebox. You never know when the opportunity will arise.” Dylan’s turning him so they’re facing each other. “I do need you to tell me if this isn’t something you’re comfortable with though.”

Oh, he means so well. He gives a short laugh and covers his face. “I’m just nervous, I’ve never-” He’s pushing his visor up his head, hating how he can feel how flushed his cheeks are.

“Like, never never?” Dylan picks up on it right away, thankfully. He’s blushing harder now, nodding furiously. “Oh, oh wow. Okay. Fuck, that’s okay! Surprising but okay.”

“Surprising?” Sung manages out in a weak voice and Dylan’s nodding earnestly.

“You’re good looking and funny and very genuine. I’m surprised you haven’t been scooped up before this, shorty.” Dylan’s pulling his hands away, a comforting noise leaving him when Sung blanches. “Don’t start acting shy now.”

“It’s a lot.” Sung finally says and Dylan’s nodding, leaning in close.

“I know, and that’s why I’m gonna take good care of you. Shame it’s gotta be in a car. Would love to take my time with you…” Oh, oh that brings up a slew of emotions in Dylan, all of them tinged with a sensuous heat. “But I don’t think either of us can wait for that though, can we?”

No, no they can’t. The nerves are sliding away as he’s remembering how eagerly he had touched Dylan in front of who knows how many people, how easy it was to get along with the other, how good each kiss they had shared had felt. He’s circling his arms around Dylan’s neck and Dylan’s giving a pleased purr as he follows the action. “Please.” He whispers with a desperation he’s never felt in his life. It’s nothing and everything to him in that moment- in the large scheme of things it’s just two bodies becoming one, it’s something that happens every day, but this is Dylan and he really likes the other and despite virginity being held up on a stupidly high pedestal there really is something crazy about the fact that he’s finally going to lose his after twenty five years.

“How can I say no when you go and ask me like that?” Dylan says against his lips and Sung’s losing himself just like that.

He finds himself again when he hears the car door closing behind Dylan. Leather seats, Sung notes absently. He can’t really take inventory of anything else because the human’s got his hands under his shirt, pushing his shirt up without a moment’s hesitation. “Dylan.” The other’s name gasps out of him, back arching up with it.

“Am I allowed…?” A finger catching the underside of the wrappings on his core. Sung hates how desperately he’s nodding, a high laugh bubbling out of him as Dylan begins to work it all off. “Oh, wow… this is… can I touch it?”

“If you want this to end right now, f-feel free to.” Sung manages shakily and Dylan’s eyes go wide. “It’s just… it’s how the whole empath thing works. Takes it all in…? Processes it? Listen… p-point is, it’s overstimulated right now, sensitive…” He glances away.

“I fucking love this space shit.” Dylan breathes out and Sung manages a choked laugh. “D-do you have like, a weird space dick?”

“NO!” Sung yells loudly, jerking his knee up to catch Dylan’s side. “I’m not Phobos!”

“Who!?”

“MY FRIEND. THIS ISN’T THE POINT. I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT PHOBOS’S DICK RIGHT NOW.”

“Oh my God.” Dylan puts his face against his shoulder, his whole body shaking with loud and unapologetic laughter. Sung’s laughing then too and beating his fists down on Dylan’s back. “Great now I’m going to meet your friends and that’s gonna be the first thing I think about.”

“Oh gods, shut up!” Sung groans. “You’re killing the mood. You’re killing me!”

“Alright, alright. Let’s try this again.” He sits up and his head hits the roof of the car, causing Sung to give a snort of amusement. “Gonna just uh, grab the stuff.”

“Mmm hmm.” He’s getting a face full of Dylan’s ass and he’s shoving the other forward into the front of the car, laughing even harder now. “You’re doing this on purpose!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dylan backs up and Sung’s laughing even harder. “Listen, you were at the show, you know that this is just what happens when you’re around me.”

“We get it, you have a nice ass!” Sung brings his hand down on it and Dylan’s casting a look over his shoulder, brows arched and lips pulled into a smirk. “Stop! You’re awful! Dirty and awful and-”

“You love it.” Dylan’s back between his legs, looking all to pleased with himself with a line of condoms and lube in one hand. Sung’s eye rounds just so and for a moment Dylan softens, his cockiness dissipating. “Don’t look so worried now…”

“I’m not just- just nervous… But if anyone’s gonna make sure I get taken care of, it’s Planet Booty’s frontman Dylan Germick.”

Dylan gets adorably embarrassed at that but he plays it off with a scoff and a playful roll of his eyes. Still, Sung knows, and it causes a warm smile to come to his features. “Now what’s that look for?” Dylan squints at him.

“You’re cute.” He says simply.

“Handsome.” Dylan counters.

“Both?” Sung offers.

“I’ll take it.”

Dylan’s laughing against his throat and his shirt’s coming off just like that. His own hands are pulling at the bottom of the human’s, desperate to feel that skin once more. “God damn.” Dylan shudders when Sung’s hands accidentally brush across his stomach, right below his ribs. Without warning their crotches are pressed up against each other and it’s not even funny how fast he gets hard again. Dylan takes notice, a low chuckle sliding out of him. “Someone excited.”

“Shut up.” He’s throwing the shirt into the front seat and running his hands up and down the other’s chest, thrilling at the feel of Dylan’s pounding heart through his skin. “You’re one to talk.”

Dylan rolls his hips and Sung’s jerking violently at the sensation. “Yeah? That feel good?” Dylan’s voice pitches low as he repeats the action and the empath is whining with it. “Oh baby, that’s nothin’.”

He knows that but it feels so good. He’s got his bottom lip caught between his teeth, eye screwed up as a heavy flush spreads across his cheeks. “So sweet.” He hears Dylan murmur fondly. He can’t manage any kind of response, his hips rocking desperately in order to feel more friction between the two of them. “You really want it, don’t you?” Now there’s fingers touching upon the hickies at his throat and then sliding down, circling just outside where the rim of his core is and the light of it flickers, filling the car with a warm, bright light.

“Dylan.” He gasps out. His long digits are sliding down further and further until they’re reaching the button and zipper of his jeans. “Oh gods, don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on anytime soon.” Dylan dragging his zipper down oh so slowly and Sung’s arching his lower half into it, a weak laugh leaving him. Gods, this is insane, this is really happening… “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Just… just doing what feels right.” What felt natural. Dylan’s hands frame his hips and Sung can’t help the shuddering jump that he issues when the human’s thumbs press into his inner thighs. “Dylan.”

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna get tired of hearing you say my name. Just watching your pretty lil’ mouth say it does things to me.”

“When… When are you going to start doing things to… to me?” Sung finally chokes out. Dylan stares at him with wide eyes, his surprise causing the empath to manage a weak laugh. “It’s a legit question.”

“Yeah, yeah it is.” Suddenly Dylan’s hand is flush against his hard on and Sung can’t even believe the noise that issues from him in response. “…Remember how I talked about us getting a noise complaint, shorty?” Oh gods. Dylan’s jerking him off through his boxers, grinning in a pleased manner the entire time. “Here I’m thinking I’m going to be the problem…”

He’s panting now, trying to stifle those moans that Dylan’s calling him out on (while also being all too eager to wring them out of him.) Just like that the other male is pulling his boxers down and oh-

Oh he’s sucking him off.

It’s a fluid motion that should be impossible (but that may just be the inexperience and his lack of knowledge on these things.) Dylan makes it look so easy though. He’s on his knees between Sung’s legs and he’s got his cock halfway in his mouth, tongue working the underside just so.

Sung arches off the leather with a loud gasp, pushing his dick further into Dylan’s mouth, nearly sobbing at the perfect wet heat of it. Dylan’s huffing and it could very well be a laugh but his mind is too far gone at this point to make sense of anything. He doesn’t even hear Dylan snap open the cap of the lube, too distracted by how Dylan’s bobbing his head just so, tongue circling the head. The other male pulls off and smirks down at him and Sung hates the desperate noise that leaves him in response, a drawn out whine of need that has no right being something that he can even manage.

“You like that?” He says, his tongue passing over his bottom lip as he cocks his head towards Sung. He gives an exasperated sigh at that and Dylan’s snorting in response, making a show of how he pours the lube out into his other hand. “Kay, try to relax. Tell me if it feels bad, or even if it feels just weird.”

Sung’s not even sure how he’s going to manage words at this point but he nods. A slick finger prods his entrance and he’s tensing without meaning to before giving Dylan an apologetic look. “S’okay, just trust me. We’ll take it nice and slow.” He presses it in and gods, that feels weird, but not terrible. He closes his eye and lets out a deep breath, trying to follow Dylan’s earlier suggestion.

Relax.

He gives a startled noise when the second finger slips into him but Dylan’s soothing it away with kisses against his inner thigh. “Doin’ so good.” He feels the words more than he hears them, spoken against his skin. “So good Sung. Gonna take me so nice.” The fingers are moving and it’s starting to feel kind of good, especially when he starts to scissor and curl them. He gives a choked moan when he brushes up against something. Prostate, his mind supplies a moment later, playing catch up. That’s your prostate, Sung.

Dylan’s tongue is pressing up against the underside of his cock as he begins to work three fingers into him now and Sung can’t even try to stop the slew of choked noises that escape him with each angled thrust of the human’s fingers. “Dylan. Dylan, Dylan, Dylan…” He chants. “Please.”

“Yeah?” Dylan says in a thick voice and Sung looks at him finally, eye widening when he sees how he’s gone and undone the front of his own jeans, one hand shoved down the front of his underwear. Gods, that’s hot. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.” He manages a weak chuckle.

“Don’t apologize, just-” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth and shifts his hips desperately without meaning to. Dylan’s eyes follow the entire motion, dragging down from his face all the way down to line of his erect cock. “I don’t know how many times I have to beg for it.”

“Not anymore.” He’s shimmying out of his jeans and tossing to the front with the rest of their clothes. “Just gotta be patient for one more moment.”

He doesn’t want to be but he gets it, especially when he hears the wrapper ripping in the silence that follows. Safe sex practices seem so mundane in the face of all this, the steamed up car windows and his own breathlessness, but thank the gods Dylan knows what he’s doing. “Alright, alright. Hey.” Dylan’s leaning over him then, brow knitted with concern. “We’re gonna take it real slow, even more than before.”

Do we have to? He barely bites back the question, nodding shakily instead. He misses the feeling of Dylan’s fingers inside of him and the moment he feels the other’s cock pressing up against his entrance he’s shifting his hips just so, desperate to have something more.

Dylan’s right though, going slow is what Sung needs in that moment. He’s thicker than his three fingers and he swears he can feel each inch push into him. “Got no right feelin this damn good.” He hears Dylan whisper above him. “God damn, Sung.”

For a moment it’s just the two of them covered in a fine sweat, Dylan leaned into him with his hand braced on the headrest awkwardly, Sung’s legs bunched up and around his sides. “You feel good too.” He sighs out as his hips move of their own accord, pushing further down, taking more of Dylan inside of him. There’s a subtle ache there but he’s not focusing on that, instead letting his core take in everything the human was feeling in that moment. So much. It was a barely checked anticipation, eagerness, lust and desire, and then past all of that until he finds the care and concern there.

Dylan moves his hips and Sung’s coming back to reality, gasping as Dylan pulls back onto to fuck back into him. Good, it felt so good. He’s giving a weak noise as his legs tighten around the other in a mindless attempt to drag him closer. Dylan swears in response and moves one hand to grab at his hip, helping guide the motion of his frantic thrusts. “Like that, s-slow, fuck.”

They find a rhythm that’s all kinds of right. It’s just like earlier, Sung reading the exact things that Dylan wants in that moment, their bodies taking to it so naturally. “You’re killing me.” Dylan says as Sung’s hands skim up his chest, palms on his throat and fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. He slides up the leather some and Dylan’s really crowding over him, spreading his legs even further apart. “F-fuck…”

He’s babbling on about how Dylan can’t stop, how he doesn’t want him to, about how good it feels. It’s falls out of him in a desperate slew and pitches higher with each frantic thrust. The whole car smells like sweat and sex and it’s not even funny how the sound of skin hitting skin turns him on. “Ride… w-wanna… wanna ride you.” He gasps out, causing Dylan to pause for a moment.

“Wha…”

“Y-you heard me.” He gives a desperate little laugh. “Wanna ride you. Gotta just… c-change positions…”

And they manage. Dylan has to pull out and it gets a bit awkward for a handful of moments but sometime later he finds himself in the human’s lap, his cock teasing against his entrance once more. “What’s causin’ this?” Dylan muses. He looks a whole different kind of wrecked than what Sung had seen at the end of the performance earlier. It’s flushed cheeks and an unfocused stare, all accented by the way he rocks his hips just so, causing his dick to rub up against Sung’s backside.

“Dunno.” And really, he doesn’t have a reason except for the fact that it seemed like it would work better like this. And it does, he realizes the moment Dylan slides back in, work better. It’s more natural like this in the cramped car, his own smaller stature causing him to not bump up against the hood of the car, his legs braced on either side of Dylan allow for the other man to grab at his thighs with a crazed desperation as they find their pace once more. “B-but it feels, nnngh, it feels real fuckin’ good.”

“Oh I bet. I bet you feel all kinds of good right now. Are you close?” A hand on his dick, working the length eagerly. Oh gods. His mouth finds Dylan’s and he’s kissing the other, sloppy and desperate, knowing he’s awfully close. “Can I touch you?”

“Y-you… you are?” His head lolls back with the statement and he hears Dylan laugh. “Huh?”

“Here.” He circles just around the rim of his core and Sung jolts with it before he gives a high keening noise of need. “Poor thing, all strung out and desperate, yeah? You’re so fuckin’ good, Sung. Holy fuck.” He leans in, fingers posed over his sternum. “Tell me when I get to see you again.”

“Whu… what…?” He can’t make sense of the statement right now but he swears the other’s implying they’re going to meet again, someway, somehow. “I don’t…”

“I’m not letting you get away, shorty. Besides, I still gotta hear your music.” How can he be calm, managing a near breathless but still complete conversation like this. “So tell me…”

“I don’t… I don’t know…” Sung chokes out and Dylan gives a disappointed hum, fingers inching away. “Dylan, I-I can’t… oh my gods, I can’t…fuh-focus…”

“Next week. Say it’s a date.”

“You are not asking me out a date when you- Oh! W-when you fuck me!” Sung hits his shoulder but Dylan’s really grinning now, his thrusts going slow and measured, causing the empath to groan weakly. “Dylan.”

“Say it.”

“F-fine! Fine it’s a date!” Who cares what he has going on, who cares what everyone will say. Fuck it. Dylan’s smiling at him and he really does like the other and besides…

They still had to do this the right away, after all.

“Gods, please, Dylan.” He presses his head against the human’s and one hand braces on his hip, helping angle the thrusts deeper and harder, and the other hand…

The other hand is brushing up against his core.

He comes without warning, his entire body jumping with the action, bending dangerously but gods if it doesn’t feel good. There’s cum all over his stomach and Dylan’s chest and he can only stay in place as Dylan continues to fuck him through his own orgasm, his own groans becoming shorter and more frantic until finally he follows suit.

“I can’t believe…” Sung says breathlessly, his arms still thrown around the other male’s neck, his forehead coming forward again to rest upon Dylan’s. “You really did that.”

“Fucked you?” Dylan’s just as breathless, his chest heaving with exertion. “Or asked you out.”

“Both.” He’s laughing without warning and Dylan’s joining him moments later. “Both! Holy shit!”

“What can I say, I think I like you, Doctor Sung.” Dylan’s hand is on the back of his neck, drawing him in closer, his lips just brushing over his, causing his core to flicker happily. “I think I like you an awful lot.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO FINALLY GOT AROUND TO FINISHING UP THIS SHIT. I think I might honestly keep it open ended and return to it if I so please, but most chapters can just end... there, and they'll still feel complete.
> 
> Anyways I love dis pairing thank you

He’s creeping back into their humble, temporary abode at nearly five in the morning and he’s still reeling from the fact that that all really happened.

Sung hadn’t left right away. Dylan had helped him back into his clothes afterwards and he had returned the favor and then they had stepped out and leaned against the trunk of Dylan’s car, spending the next hour just _talking_. Sung hadn’t been expecting that, but when he had felt the human’s hand close around his wrist with a gentle carefulness, he couldn’t help but give pause.

“You really gotta get goin’ so fast?” Dylan was doing that thing again. All confident on the outside, a nervous mess on the inside. It wasn’t even funny how quickly Sung angled himself back towards the other male, already gravitating back into his orbit. Dylan’s nerves settled, smile breaking out across his face like to the soon to rise sun. “That’s what I thought.” He said, going back to his normal smooth talking self.

“Don’t act so pleased.” Sung warned without any real heat, reaching up to run his hands across Dylan’s shoulders. “Dylan, I can _literally_ feel how smug you are right now.”

“Can’t help it.” Sung’s not sure what feels better in that moment; the cool air upon the still-damp back of his t-shirt or Dylan’s hands cupping his cheeks, thumbs smoothing across his jawline. “Can I get fifteen more minutes out of you?” He said then in a much softer voice, a careful question of sorts.

He ended up with not just fifteen more minutes, but thirty on top of that.

Dylan only kissed him once that entire time and it had only been a simple brush of lips at the very end, so chaste in comparison to everything else they had managed to do that night. Before that it had the two of them standing hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, leaning their weight against each other just so as the dawn begins to creep in across the skyline, slowly but surely. “So tell me about this band…” Dylan started and Sung tipped his head up, barking a laugh out to the fading stars above. “Oh? Is it just one of those ‘for fun’ bands?”

“Well yes, but it’s also a legitimate operation. We’re gaining popularity here, and up there… yeah, kind of a big deal.” It was so strange being able to talk about this so openly but even then, Dylan had no idea what was up there in the spaces between the stars. Every amazing thing that it held, every gods awful terrible thing...

“So you’re touring as well…?” Dylan led in, pulling his attention back to this planet, away from one that had been laid to waste by Boredom twenty some years ago. “Beginning? Middle? End of it?”

“Nearing the end. We had a little lull between shows, hence my appearance tonight. Everyone else was a big lame and stayed home.” He stuck out his tongue, rolling his eye in annoyance.

“So more than just Lord Phobos with the weird alien dick.” Sung groaned at that, covering his face in embarrassment. Why did Dylan have to bring that up, looking as proud as a peacock? “I am _never_ going to let you live that one down, shorty.”

He was just gonna go and ignore that, hoping the flush that stained his cheeks would disappear with time. “There’s Phobos, Meouch, and Havve. And yes,” he said, already sensing the next question Dylan’s about to pose. “They’re all aliens too. Well, wait, excuse me, Havve’s a robot.”

Dylan gasped. “A robot!”

“ _Yup_ .” Sung was digging the amazement coming from Dylan. He was incredulous at every word that passed his lips and yet there was not even a lick of doubt in the other as he continued on. “Phobos is a Lepid. They’re a bit like the moths you have here on Earth, but _not,_ it’s hard to explain. Meouch is a Leoian, so just imagine a giant lion man with a terrible smoking habit and potty mouth, and Havve is very tall, and very murdery, and _very_ good at playing the drums.”

“What…” Dylan said slowly as he steepled his long fingers, casting Sung a wide eyed look as he did. “In God’s name kind of music do you make?”

“I think it’s been called on Earth ‘electro funk with a dash of synthwave’? Something like that. You know, the funny thing!” He held up a finger and pointed it right at Dylan, unable to keep himself from smiling. “I just about shit myself when Josh started using the talk box. That’s all I use for our songs!”

The human’s knuckles grazed his shoulder suddenly, preceding the soft and disbelieving laugh that left him moments later. “You sing!” He declared in an amazed voice.

“C’mon, that’s giving me too much credit…” Sung said in a sheepish voice, barely managing to bite back his squeak of surprise when Dylan began to get close in that Dylan Germick way of his. “Dylan...” He warned.

“C’mon, lemme hear you.” He’s framed in by the other’s arms just like that and there’s nowhere to go. “Bet you got the voice of an angel.” He was half teasing, Sung could sense, half serious, the latter taking precedence as he brushed Sung’s hair away from his face.

“...I should really go…” The words all but fell out of him. He could hear birds in the distance, calling to each other in the dying dark, a reminder of how gods awful late (early?) it really was. Dylan seemed to become aware of himself then, drawing back with an apologetic noise. Still, he didn’t move.

He really didn’t want to.

Gods, this was bad.

“Your number.” He blurted without warning, causing Dylan to cock a brow in response. “Phone, number, make the texting thing happen...Urgh.”

“‘The texting thing?’” Dylan hummed as he reached into his back pocket, drawing out his own phone. “With the neat emojis and fancy lingo and-” He bit down on his bottom lip as he began to laugh, causing Sung to start forward, pushing at him with an embarrassed noise. “Why are you gettin’ upset?” Dylan laughed, all too amused for his own good.

“You’re making fun of me! Just let me put in my number, you bastard.”

“Fine, fine.” The human deposited the phone into his hands and for a moment Sung marveled at how lightweight it was. In space just about everyone used comms and then there was the fact of the matter that the burner phone he used while on Earth was a flip phone of all things. This was so nice and modern. “There.” Their fingers brushed up against one another when he handed the phone back. Suddenly all Sung could remember was how those fingertips felt on his skin, tracing their way across every inch of his body. ..

He was honestly going to get emotional whiplash at this point if this kept up.

“Weren’t you heading out?” Once again, Dylan’s low drawl pulled him back to reality. Right. He gave a nervous laugh, flicking his hair back with what he hoped was an easy toss of his head. He smiled then and it was a genuine thing, no need to force it especially when Dylan broke into his own in response. “You won’t ghost me, right shorty?”

He bit his bottom lip and shook his head slowly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He said in a near whisper. Sung nearly jumped out of his own skin when he felt the rough pads of Dylan’s fingers on his jaw, unable to help the gasp that slid out of him when the human angled his face up to his own.

“That’s god damn right.” Dylan said against his mouth before he brushed their lips together, as light and careful as a feather. He circled his thumbs across the swell of Sung’s cheekbones before trailing his hands down, resting them upon his shoulders, all kinds of affectionate. “You sleep well now, Doctor Sung.” Dylan took a step back, taking the warmth with him. When had it gotten cold? He wrapped his arms around himself before giving Dylan a reassuring smile, already able to sense the other’s worry. “You sure you don’t want me to see if I got a sweater in my car?”

“I’m good, I’m good, don’t let me keep you.” He waved him off.

“You make it sound like a chore.” His keys let out an amiable jangle, a sound that’s at complete odds with the quiet of the not-night. “Talk to you soon, you know, with the texting and what not.” Dylan teased.

“Oh, fuck off.” Sung raised his middle finger at the other, Earthen style, his smile shifting into a full fledged grin as at the over reaction Dylan gave in response, mouth rounding, hand clasping at his chest before he waved him off again.

“For real, text me Sung.” Dylan rounded the car and eyed Sung from over the roof, concern creasing his brow momentarily. “At the very least tell me you got home safe, yeah?”

Dylan Germick did _not_ need to know how many black belt degrees he had tonight, so he just smiled and nodded as the human slipped into his front seat. For a moment Sung hoped that the engine would fail by some miracle, that he’d have to offer that the other come home with him without even conferring with the other guys. _Hey guys, meet my new friend. We also kind of fucked in the back seat of his car, but that’s not the point. He’s really good at singing!_ But of course that was just wishful thinking. The car came to life and that was his cue. Sung threw up a hand, waving the other off as he began to amble his way back to his place. “Hey, wait!” Dylan shouted as he rolled down the passenger seat window. Sung looked back and over his shoulder at him, brow raising in question. The human’s lips curled at the corners as he offered him his toothiest grin, voice pitching as he managed his best smoothest, most innuendo laden voice of the night yet. “You wanna ride, baby?”

Sung’s mouth fell open. He let out a disbelieving laugh to what remained of the stars before he jogged over to the car, cheeks flaming all the while. “You are the literal _worst!_ ” Sung shoved at Dylan’s arm as he all but fell into the other seat, laughing all the while. Dylan pushed back and Sung didn’t need to be an empath to know that the other was gods damned overjoyed that he had said yes.

Good.

“Take me home, Mister Booty.” He hummed.

“You got it, Doctor.”

So that’s how he finds himself here, having refused the temptation to kiss Dylan again, having closed the passenger door behind him, having given one last smile at the other male before he digs out his keys, waving them in Dylan’s direction as he stands on the sidewalk leading up to their place. “Text me!” Dylan says loudly through the open window in response. “I mean it!”

“Shh! You’re gonna wake everyone up!” Sung hisses, head whipping around wildly.

“Then we can get all these awkward first introductions out of the way!” The other male counters easily. “I’m just fucking with you, shorty, don’t look so nervous!” Sung’s got both hands on his face, staring at Dylan in unabashed horror. He smirks as he reclines his seat some, his blue eyes never once leaving Sung’s own. “Get some sleep. Sweet dreams.”

He echoes back the sentiment and watches Dylan drive his way down the street. His shoulders hitch up towards his ears then and he’s all too aware of what happened when he’s finally alone like this. No longer a virgin with Dylan Germick’s number waiting for him on his phone.

He had really gone and done that.

All of that.

Sung gives a little giddy giggle before he shakes his head, shoulders unspooling. He really needed to sleep. They had a lot of shit to do tomorrow (today?) and he wasn’t going to get more than three hours of sleep if he was lucky. He steps into the airbnb, humming a Planet Booty song to himself absently, conjuring forth an image of a sweaty, smirking Dylan, enjoying every moment of it...

_Sung._

Oh.

No.

He freezes as he’s painted in a red light, palm turning sweaty on the doorknob as he becomes aware of the fact that his best friend is standing right there. At least he can take some kind of comfort in the fact that Phobos and Meouch are slumbering above head, lost in their own deep dreamworlds. _Hey buddy!_ Sung speaks across their link, not trusting his voice. _What’s up!?_

_What did you do?_

He turns very, very slowly. He hadn’t been able to sense the robot the entire time but maybe something had slipped through when he was getting his brains fucked out. Could you blame him? _I am_ so _sorry._ He starts, causing Havve to cock his head in question.

_What are you sorry for, Sung?_

_I…_ He scrambles. Havve’s like a gods damn cat, batting him around and playing with him before going in for the kill. He goes to toe off his shoes, stalling as effectively as he can, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. _Stayed out really late and didn’t check in with you?_

_And?_

_And I met someone…_

_And?_

“Havve.” He squeaks out, incredulous of how thorough this grilling is. “Dude, c’mon.”

The robot folds his arms across his chest plate and there’s an invisible eyebrow of judgement being raised at him, he’s sure of it. Sung groans, scrubs a hand across his flaming face.

 _I… I did what you told me to._ He manages. _I had fun._

Havve storms up to him and glares right down at him. I _did not mean like that, Sung_ . _What were you thinking? A human who you don’t even know-!_

 _DON’T START PLAYING MY DAD, DUDE._ He isn’t even really upset, Sung’s really just embarrassed at this point. There’s a menacing aura coming off of Havve as Sung continues to stutter through his explanation, faltering under that piercing gaze. _I just… I’m sorry. This is on me if it goes south. I don’t really want to do this right now, if we don’t have to. I’m really tired…_ And he is. He’s worn out in more ways than one, a dull ache in his limbs, pulsing through his entire body. He just wants to sleep, that’s all.

Havve sighs down their link and his optics dim just a tad. _Okay. It’s done, for now. Maybe a little warning next time though, Sung. I’m not entirely too interested in the sexual activities you choose to participate in, if we’re being honest._

Sung groans and covers his face, sure that he’s _this close_ to spontaneously combusting. _Don’t worry, it was when you were in the hotel. I was able to block everything else after out._ Havve informs him dryly, causing him to let out a low moan of horror. _Congratulations are in order though, I suppose, given your loss of virginity._

“Havve!” Sung shrieks before clapping his hand over his mouth. There’s noise above head and followed by sleep laden “SHUT THE _FUCK_ UP.” from Meouch before the house goes quiet again. Sung stares at Havve and Havve stares back, hand on his hip. “I hate you.” He grits out.

_No you don’t, now go to sleep Sung. Gods know you’ll need it._

_-_

 

Dylan Germick’s mornings usually consisted of waking up and stretching his limbs out with a series of sun salutations and other various morning yoga poses once his feet hit the floor. He would then shower, then go about checking the news on his phone while he scrounged something up for breakfast, Rob and Josh still soundly asleep in their own hotel beds, having apparently decided the night prior to exile him to the pullout. This morning, however, started with a text from Doctor Sung.

 ** _I want to die._**  

 **What the fuck happened?** He types back, brows jumping when the response comes back almost immediately.

**_Havve knows._ **

 

He wracks his brain from the night before, trying to place the name. The robot. Right. He still remembers the shock of it all, of Sung’s strange ears and the strange lighted object in his chest, the way he had just been able to sense everything Dylan had felt the night before.

Space, man.

 

 **How does he know? Is it the hickies?** He smiles to himself, suddenly proud with the memory of Sung’s bared throat and every mark he had placed upon it.

**_Uh, long story short, we share a telepathic link._ **

 

Just like that Dylan’s gone and dropped his phone on his face in shock.

 

 **WITH THE ROBOT?!** He texts back frantically after he picks it up again, although it’s more like ‘WITH THRH RIBOTT????’ given his surprise and confusion.

**_YES._ **

**HOW DOES THIS WORK?**

**_IT’S A LONG STORY._ **

**WHY ARE WE USING CAPS?**

**_I. DON’T. KNOW._ **

 

He starts to laugh, imagining Sung’s fingers tapping away on his own phone, hair sticking up at odd angles from sleep, the lid of his eye still heavy with sleep. He sits up and slides his hand to the back of his neck, working out a knot there as he considers what else to type. Sung’s more than happy to fill the silence though, causing his phone to vibrate a total of five times before Dylan finally picks it up, not knowing what to expect at all.

 

**_He congratulated me on the whole loss of virginity thing._ **

**_HE DIDN’T LIKE, WATCH US BTW._ **

**_HE CAN PUT UP THESE MENTAL WALLS. LISTEN, IT’S HARD TO EXPLAIN OVER TEXT._ **

**_HE’S ALSO ASEXUAL SO..._ **

**_DYLAN WHY DO WE ALWAYS END UP TALKING ABOUT MY FRIENDS SEXUALLY?_ **

 

He ducks his head and presses his lips together, not trusting himself to not burst out laughing, waking up Josh and Rob in the process. God, he was really too much. He stretches his hands up above his head before he begins to type back slowly.

 

**I mean it’s always you who brings this whole thing up, Doctor Sung. You don’t hear me talking about my friend’s genitalia.**

**_HGKLSHDKDFLGHLGHLD_ **

**Goodness, you have a lot energy this morning.**

**_...I didn’t sleep…_ **

**Sung…**

**_Listen._ **

**_Okay,_** **_I don’t have a good reason._**

**Couldn’t stop thinking about me, clearly ;)**

**_You always so full of yourself so early in the morning?_ **

**Would -you- like to be full of me this morning?**

 

Oh, it’s _risky_ sending that, but he can’t help himself. Sung’s gotta be so worked up by this point, all red in the face and huffing and adorable. Besides, he can play it off as a stupid joke, right? There’s almost a minute between responses and he’s about to send a stupid emoji but then Sung goes and surprises the hell out of him.

 

**_Uh_ **

**_I wouldn’t object._ **

 

He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and sucks in a surprised breath. Alright, alright, he can roll with this.

 

**Yeah? Maybe we -should- have gotten that hotel room last night. Would have been real nice treat to wake up right next to you.**

 

He’s imagining it now too, Sung’s freckled skin lit by the sun slanting through the space between the blinds, them ordering room service and spending the whole morning in bed, talking, kissing… The empath’s tanned body contrasted by the pure white of the hotel sheets under him as Dylan leaned over him, cover the smaller male’s body with his.

 

**_Then -neither- of us would have gotten any sleep, Dylan._ **

**True, but would you really be that upset?**

 

It’s another few moments of quiet before Sung replies again, moments in which he finds himself with his hand rest on his stomach, fingers inching downwards without any real thought. It’s still quiet in the hotel room, the sad excuse for a mattress shifting under him nearly startling him out of his own skin. Rob and Josh are right there, for fuck’s sake. But despite that he’s not moving his hand, not stopping...

**_No._ **

**That’s what I thought.**

 

What was Sung doing on his end? He had to be quiet too, right? Aware of the fact that his bandmates were only a room away. He can see it now, Sung cheeks painted a pretty pink, throat working as his own hand works down, core flickering some when he startles himself on accident, all kinds of skittish and self aware. He could also be doing none of those things, Dylan. Maybe get your head out of your ass?

You could ask him.

Jesus, how old is he? You’d think he was half his age, fumbling and bumbling along with his first real crush. The idea of just asking Sung that causes him to push out a low breath before he’s tapping his fingers along the keyboard. He stares at the message before deleting it all before typing it out again.

 

**Are you touching yourself?**

 

He doesn’t even give a moments pause before he types out the next line, fingers shaking just so from the nerves.

 

**Do you want to?**

 

**_Yes._ **

 

It feels like years pass when it can really only be moments when Sung finally responds. He shifts further up the pullout, puts his phone down to readjust the pillows behind him so he can be more comfortable, shooting one last surreptitious glance at Rob and Josh. Sung texts him between that and he’s left to stare at it wide eyed for a moment, not quite sure he’s reading it right.

 

**_Can I call you?_ **

 

He’s dialing the empath’s before he can even consider the pros and cons of doing this. It rings once, twice, there’s an fumbling sound as the other line clicks through. “Holy shit I’m sorry, I have a flip phone.”

It’s Sung’s voice alright, but the words are so unexpected Dylan has to repeat it twice in his head before he recognizes what the empath means. “Holy shit, you’re fucking with me.” He whispers back with a laugh.

“No, no I’m not. That’s the thing. It takes so long to type, especially with one hand…”

“One hand?” Dylan questions in an innocent voice.

“...Bastard.” Sung hisses. “You are-!”

“You really do have a lot of energy this morning, don’t you?” Dylan muses. Sung huffs down the line and there’s more odd noises. “Jesus, what are you doing over there?” He laughs the words out, shaking his head to himself.

“Let me live.” Sung muffles back. “I’m trying to get comfortable. I gotta cradle the phone like so…”

“Cos of the whole one hand thing, I’m sure.”

“Dylan, I swear, if you don’t stop.”

“Okay, okay. I’m shutting up now.” He can’t help but smile at the mumbled thanks Sung throws him before finally, finally, there’s a sigh of relief across the line. “You good?” He inquires.

“Now I am.” And already Dylan can hear the easier cadence in Sung’s voice. It’s gone in an instant though the moment Sung attempts to broach the earlier subject. “Uh, so… w-where were we?” He stutters out.

He’s never done this before. Any of this before. That brings a pleased smile to Dylan’s features. “We were talking about how you wanted to touch yourself.” He reminds Sung gently.

“Oh.” Sung says on an breathless exhale. “Yeah.”

There’s a stretch of silence then and Dylan’s eyes flick to where his own phone is cradled up on his shoulder, crammed against his cheek. We don’t have to do this if it’s too weird, Sung. He’s got the phrase at the ready just like he did the night before, moments away from breaking the silence, but then Sung’s speaking instead.

“I can’t stop thinking about last night.” He titters nervously and Dylan’s suddenly not so embarrassed about his earlier schoolyard crush feelings. “You’re really good at kissing.”

“So are you, sweet heart.” Dylan hums back, voice still thick with sleep. “That can’t be the only thing you’ve been thinkin’ about though. C’mon now. You can tell me.”

He can hear the way Sung’s breath hitches when he draws it in. “I uh… just… just about how you touched me.” He’s smirking too now, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue, disgustingly proud with himself. “I...I like how handsy you are.”

“I can’t help it, specially when it comes to you.” That wasn’t just him talking it up either. No, it really was an undeniable, magnetic draw between the two of them. Sung had gone and let him into his personal space and Dylan was more than happy to enjoy and relish in every moment of it. His fingers curl on his stomach, nails drawing across his skin, causing his muscles to flutter underneath. “Pretty lil’ thing that you are.”

Sung gives an embarrassed noise in response and Dylan shifts his shoulders, pressing back and up into the pillows behind his head. He’s partially hard in his boxers and he wants nothing more than to touch himself, but that wouldn’t be fair, would it? “Watcha doing over there, Sung?” He asks in a low, teasing voice, pressing his right thumb into his hip bone in an attempt to distract himself.

“J-just…” His voice cracks before Sung groans. “I wanna touch myself. It’s taking everything I’ve got to not… not just do that...”

The bed creaks loudly under him as he shifts his own hips, sliding his hand over the front of his boxers with a pleased sound, knowing full well Sung will hear it. “Dunno what’s stopping you from doing just that.” He tightens his grip on his hardening erection, eyes rolling back just a bit at how good it feels.

There’s a muffled whimper and then Sung’s gasping and it sounds like God damn music to Dylan’s ears. “You really are so noisy.”

Someone sighs and it’s not Sung, causing his heart to stop in his chest. He sinks further down under the sheets, trying to see if Josh is waking up, or Rob. But they both look content, their breathing still sleep heavy and dream labored. “Dylan.” Sung’s own gasp draws him back in. “Fuck.”

He presses his palm down and sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. This is dangerous, but hadn’t it also been dangerous fucking in his car in the middle of an abandoned parking lot. “Awful.” He purrs despite himself. “Getting me all worked up like this.”

“ _Mpmph_.” Sung whimpers back. “I-”

Dylan grins wildly. “Grinding up against my hand, trying not to wake up my bandmates, taking it nice and slow. What about you, shorty?”

“Can’t.” Sung hiccups, his voice tinny as it comes across the phone. “Can’t help it. Want it to be your hand. Want you here.” His words are slurring and something in Dylan’s certain that the empath is already close. “S’not enough.”

It’s so hard to stay quiet but he has to. There’s a damp spot on the front of his boxers and his thumb keeps working over it, causing his hips to jump with each pass. “God, Sung.” He groans, his head lolling back, imagining it now. Sung’s hand working furiously, back arched, lips parted in that pretty way he always seemed to manage. “Gunna cum.” Dylan’s other hand snakes down, working the base of his cock. “Fuck.”

The other male’s breathing quickens and suddenly he’s giving a strangled cry before a satisfied sound passes over the line. “Oh.” He hears Sung whimper happily. “Oh wow.”

He tightens his grip and thrusts into it mindlessly until his own orgasm hits, causing his vision to go dark at the corners as he bites back the loud, incriminating groan. “Sung.” He manages a moment later, settling back into his body as he comes off his high.

“Dylan.” Sung hums back, unfairly adorable.

“That was... “ Unexpected, amazing, indescribable. “Good.” He finally settles on, not wanting to gush too much. “Real good.” Incomparable to what they had done before, but still amazing in it's own special way. 

“You’re telling me.” Sung’s voice is still dreamy and soft. “Oh, wow.”

He spares another glance at Josh and Rob, relieved to find them still asleep. “So…” He starts before he can help it, letting out a breathless laugh. “You uh, wanna get lunch in a couple hours?”

Sung splutters. “Dylan, are you serious?”

“I told you.” Dylan sits up and his everything rejoices at the sensation. “I gotta see you again.” There were only a handful of minutes between the last time they had seen each other. But he can’t help it. He can't even imagine waiting a week at this point. The idea of seeing Sung again is all he can think about. It’s a nice distraction from the jizz on his hand too, now that he thinks about it.

“Lunch?” Sung sounds hopeful under his scrutiny. “Are you buying?”

He chuckles fondly. “I’ll wine, dine, and sixty-nine, if you’ll let me.” That gets Sung huffing and puffing on the other end, causing Dylan to smile. “Nevermind then! We’ll just skip right to the action if that’s what you want.”

“Howabout the exact opposite?” Sung counters, sounding only slightly nervous as he proposes the idea. Gosh, Dylan can’t wait to kiss him again, kiss him until those worries of his are nonexistent. “Just… just the wine-ing… and the dining part, yeah?”

“Wine and dine it is. But you should probably sleep for a little bit, and I should probably shower.” He admits. “You know, on second thought, you should probably also shower, and then sleep, and then I can come pick you up. How’s that sound?”

Sung gives a delighted laugh and it's pure magic. “Sounds like a date.” The alien confirms before hanging up on him. He flops back into his sad excuse for a bed, one hand still jammed down the front of his boxers, the phone slipping out from the now nonexistent cradle of his shoulder and head. Date. You’ve got a date with Doctor Sung, Germick.

Could life get any weirder? Any better?

Only time would tell.

-

Sung flies out the door before anyone can ask where he’s going or what he’s doing. _You’re playing a dangerous game_ , Havve calls after him, but it fizzes out moments after, the robot retreating inside of his own head.

Dylan’s car is parked right there in front and Sung has to do everything in his power to smother his excitement. “Lookin’ good for only three hours of sleep, Sung.” Dylan calls over to him. He’s wearing clear rimmed glasses and he looks soft, the complete opposite of his stage persona. He rolls his eye behind his visor and pops into the passenger seat, only to realize he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s here.

Earlier had happened without warning. Heat and want flooding through him so fast he didn’t know what to do with it. Then Dylan had said his name, purposefully asking him what he was up to when he knew damn well what it was… He looks out the window now, hoping to hide his blush, knowing he’s failed miserably by the way the human reaches over and touches his cheek. “Hey.” Dylan starts, sounding worried. “You okay?”

Sung doesn’t answer at first. “We don’t actually have to do this.” Dylan fills up the silence with too soft words. “Like, I know this has been fast. It’s fast, even for me, if we’re being honest here. But that’s why I kind of… kind of wanna do something simple. Just a date.”

His core aches with Dylan’s honesty. “Yeah, okay. It’s not you either, I just…” _You’re all that’s on my mind..._ It would probably fade with time, but it felt so poignant now. Like they had to make the most of it. “I’m overthinking it. That’s all.”

That hand is back on his cheek, pushing his hair back over his ears. “Then stop thinkin’ so hard, shorty, and just enjoy it.” Dylan’s lips press against his freckled jaw, his moustache rough in all the right ways. He smiles and feels Dylan smile back in response, yet another kiss landing on his skin, and then another.

“Dylan.” He warns half-heartedly.

“Who needs lunch when I got the real deal right here?” The human purrs back. There’s hands on him now, in his hair, cupping his face, on his wrist before sliding down slowly to the fingers on his hand, tangling them together before bringing them up to his mouth. “You’re a god damn five course meal over here.” Sung half laugh, half gasps as Dylan bites down on a knuckle, grinning all the while.

“Just drive the car, damn it.” He can’t stop laughing now. Too much. Dylan’s joy is infinite in the small space that they share and Sung’s falling deeper and deeper into it.

“Alright, alright, bossy lil’ man. Let’s go.” And that’s when Sung notices they’re still holding hands. His left in Dylan’s right, fingers laced just loosely enough that he could pull back if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to, the empath realizes. In fact he grips them tighter, his eye sliding to the floor as he does. It feels like a promise when they’re like this. Meaningful in inexplicable, unbreakable ways.

He doesn’t miss the way Dylan squeezes back, his satisfaction growing with the gesture.

It’s everything, everything.

Dylan turns on the radio at a stop sign, using his left hand and everything. Sung has a billion questions. What kind of music do you like, where are we going, do you have any siblings, are you a vegetarian? Dylan speaks first though, breaking their shared silence. “So first off, I still gotta listen to your music, not backing down on that one.” He starts. “Was going to this morning, but I ended up a lil... preoccupied.”

“Dylan.” He warns, this time a little sharper than before.

He chuckles, giddy. “I uh, had my hands full, if you know what I mean.”

“Dylan!” Sung shrills.

He’s too pleased for his own good, lips curled, eyes crinkled, snorting to himself. “Anyways, I was thinking we just pick up some fast food or something, cos the whole disguise thing, find somewhere nice to park and just… talk…” Talk. He had a hundred thousand stories and he’s certain Dylan has plenty of his own. “If that’s okay with you?”

He doesn’t miss that momentary apprehension in Dylan’s voice. Can’t even with his core bound. Sung’s certain he’s never met a human who’s been so considerate before, walking on eggshells despite his larger than life personality. It’s refreshing and lovely and Sung wouldn’t have it any other way. He leans over then, pressing his lips to Dylan’s smooth cheek, lashes closing over his eye as he does. “It’s perfect.” He whispers, loving how Dylan silently thrills at it.

“Just like you.” Dylan adds after a moment, settling back into that suave persona of his.

“Stop!”

“Never.”

“Ugh.”

Nearly fifteen minutes later, by the grace of whatever gods were looking down on Sung, they were sitting by the lake, Dylan’s windows rolled down, a medium pizza up on the dashboard for them to share. “I texted Tess, by the way.” Dylan informs him, mouth full. Oh good. Sung hadn’t forgotten her, per se. She had just drifted to the back of his mind. An afterthought. “She says thank you, but also fuck you.”

Sung makes a face. “For what?”

“We clearly should have cut her off.” Dylan rolls his eyes, tipping a Coke can up to his mouth. “We’re apparently hashtag ‘the worst.’”

“Oh no.” Sung montones. “My reputation is ruined. Whatever will I do?”

They look at each other before they both start to laugh. Distantly Sung can hear dogs barking, children yelling, the sound of the lake brushing across the shore. Humanity was wild, wonderful, turning on and on without a second thought. “Can you feel them?” Dylan asks, apparently having noticed his distant gaze.

“Barely. It’s like when you have headphones on and someone’s trying to talk to you.” You had to second guess it before realizing it was actually happening.

Dylan’s eyes widen slightly before he nods in understanding. “Muffled.” He offers.

“Exactly. You though. It’s impossible to ignore you.” Sung reaches over and touches his fingers to his chest, feeling the beat of his heart through his shirt. It’s steady, just a touch faster than it ought to be, and Sung realizes it’s because he’s touching the human. “You speak volumes, Dylan.” In words and actions and thought, without even trying to.

And that’s when Dylan kisses him.

It’s open mouthed and Sung can taste the soda syrup on his lips and tongue still, stupid sweet. He realizes that his own mouth must just taste like pepperoni but Dylan must have a thing for it because he doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t stop really until Sung’s breathless from it, his fingers clawed in the front of Dylan’s shirt, his mind reeling. “Dylan.” He manages between kisses. “Dylan.” He repeats again, because he likes the way the other’s name sounds when they’re like this.

The human pulls back, pupils blown wide, glasses askew from when they had touched upon Sung’s own visor. “‘M sorry. I couldn’t help it.” He says after a moment, his own breath coming up short.

“Don’t apologize.” Sung reassures him, not liking the way Dylan’s lips turned down at the corners, his everything made out of sudden worry. “I liked it.” A lot. He liked it more than he ought to, in all honesty.

Dylan blinks, expression clearing. “I like you.” He admits. Sung laughs then, shoulders easing back, the moment apparently passing.

“I would hope so.” The empath says, reaching over to fix a flyaway hair. Dylan’s lashes fluttered over the blue of his eyes, a soft noise escaping him. Volumes, even now, his heart an open book for Sung to have at his leisure. “Because if that’s what you did to people you didn’t really like, I’d really like to see what you get up to with people that you do.”

Something in Dylan shifts. He opens his eyes, looking earnest. “Can we listen to some of your music?” He asks, surprising Sung.

Oh no, oh why? He nearly moans before seeing the look on Dylan’s face. It’s determined. Sung bites back a pained groan and relents. “I mean, yeah, sure. I guess. Gotta use your phone though. You know how shitty mine is...”

“No problem, shorty.”

It takes a few moments because he's got to log into the shared Google account they all use while on Earth. It's somewhere here on the drive, he just knows it. "Never gonna let Meouch name any of these files ever again." He mutters to himself sourly before giving an "a-ha!" of triumph. "Okay, okay, here." 

It's a rough cut of Feel's Pretty Good, the name just about settled on at this point. It's somehow both soft and raw as it filters it's way out of the radio, lacking that studio polish. Sung takes another slice of pizza and tries to not think too hard about how he sounds through the speakers, how all of them sound for that matter. He remembers coming up with this song late at night, alone, thoughts of Ladyworld and home on his mind. He’d never be able to go back to his first home. His true home…

“This is nice.” Dylan says, tone reverent. He’s looking out towards the lake, the sun shining off of it. Sung takes advantage of that, quickly wiping under his visor before clearing his throat.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s probably one of the nicer songs we’ve done.” His voice is still thick but he passes it off by shoving another piece of pizza into his mouth. “S’pretty good, I guess.” He manages. Dylan reaches over, pinching his cheek, causing Sung to nearly choke. “Hey, ow!”

The human is glaring at him now, no nonsense. “You guess? You know, Sung. You’ve got talent. Christ, you all do. Don’t talk yourself down, especially in front of me, because I’ll kick your ass.”

He’s so serious. So right, a little voice nags at him moments later. Sung gulps the pizza down and pushes his visor back, eye narrowing at Dylan. “I’d like to see you try.” He says, lips pulling into an unconscious smile.

“Just because you’re built doesn’t mean-” Dylan starts but Sung’s reaching over, stealing the phone away from him. “Hey!”

He finds it and leans back, smile growing stupid big. “Shut up and listen, okay? This is all based on true events.” And as Dylan leans back into his seat, looking hilariously disgruntled, his hand finding the alien's once more, the first few keys of Atomic Karate start and Sung’s never been happier in his life.


End file.
